


top of the world

by doremifasorashige, thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doremifasorashige/pseuds/doremifasorashige, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Saving the world is a neverending job.





	top of the world

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (one night stand becomes more).

“Gun to your head, Gaya,” Nikaido slurs, losing his balance as he leans over Fujigaya’s shoulder; Fujigaya shrugs hard enough to knock him right onto Kitayama, who doesn’t look bothered at all. “Which one of us would you fuck?”

“I’d rather die,” Fujigaya answers, tipsy enough to be more amused than uncomfortable with the topic.

“The fate of the free world depends on your answer,” Senga jumps in, and now Fujigaya is faced with two evil grins.

“Then you’re all going to die with me,” Fujigaya tells them pointedly, then signals for the waitress. “I need another shot.”

“Honestly?” Kitayama pipes up from under his Nikaido blanket, his eyes so narrow that they look closed. “It’s just sex, man. I’d bang any one of you to save the world.”

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Senga tells him, snuggling up to Kitayama’s other side and stealing a bit of the human blanket for himself.

“Wouldn’t you pick Watta?” Tamamori asks from the other side of the table, eyes open and alert despite being on his third or fourth floofy drink. “I mean, you two are practically married.”

“Would you pick Miyata?” Fujigaya shoots back, and Tamamori makes a disgusted face that’s actually kind of cute. “I rest my case.”

“Besides, Watta’s a total pussy bandit,” Nikaido says, just in time for Fujigaya to choke on his shot. “Look at him chatting up all those women.”

Five heads swivel to the bar (Miyata’s playing a game on his phone), where Yokoo’s leering creepily at the four girls who surround him, eyes moving from one to the other to give all of them an equal undressing. He’s awfully forward with women, but Fujigaya supposes they like that. Either that or they like the fangs, which Yokoo flashes every now and then. Must be that _Twilight_ phenomenon.

“You’re no fun, Gaya,” Senga says with a pout, still curled up to Kitayama whose smirk gets bigger with the more kouhai he has in his lap. “Even if you top?”

Fujigaya stops swishing the ice around in his empty glass and turns contemplative eyes to them all. “Well, now that’s different.”

“Who?” Nikaido asks excited, bouncing in a way that has Kitayama waking up a bit more.

“Tama-chan,” Fujigaya answers clearly, and Tamamori spits his mouthful back into his glass.

This gets Miyata’s attention. “Any particular reason?”

Fujigaya shrugs. “I just feel like he could be totally casual about it and it wouldn’t be weird afterward.”

“You are being entirely too logical about this,” Kitayama groans.

“And he’s hot,” Fujigaya adds, feeling a little proud at the way Tamamori avoids his eyes and throws back his drink. “I bet he’s a good lay.”

“I’m sure you think anyone is a good lay if you’re topping,” Nikaido comments, going back to being heavy weight on Kitayama who is happy to have his blanket back, taking a big gulp of his drink. “You’d do all the work.” There’s a dreamy sigh at the end, but Fujigaya is pretty sure it’s mocking, he can’t tell through the alcohol laze.

Kitayama shifts to hit him. “Some of us like not doing all the work.”

“Or any work.” Fujigaya flags down a waitress for another drink, taking a long, tentative sip. “Is that an offer from the both of you then?” He asks after a few minutes pass.

Senga tries to reach for his own drink, stretching out his arm and flexing his fingers, but missing it completely due to his lack of leaving Kitayama’s side. “Nika’s wild in bed,” he says casually, eyes trained on his glass, willing it to move.

Tamamori chokes, almost successfully getting an ice cube lodged in his throat. “That’s more than I wanted to know about you two.” He puts his glass back on the table and makes a face.

“It’s like getting a workout.” Senga’s arm falls to his lap, having given up on trying to reach his drink before he thinks to steal Kitayama’s for himself. “It’s more work than some of our hardest dance routines. Like Ai no Beat.”

“So much sweat,” a Nikaido mumble comes from somewhere, muffled by Kitayama using him as a blanket. “And I wasn’t even fucking you yet.”

Tamamori hides his face and makes a sobbing noise. “Can we please not talk about this anymore?”

“You’re too shy, Tama.” Nikaido unearths himself and steals the glass from Senga’s hands. Kitayama pouts as he watches the remains of his drink get stolen by the kouhai and an empty glass full of ice is returned to him. “I’m sure you have boring sex.”

“Who has boring sex?” Yokoo asks when he returns to the table, hair a little disheveled and lips a bit bruised.

Nikaido throws his hands up in the air and shouts, “Hey, pussy bandit!” He slurs his words a bit, voice louder than usual, making Yokoo wince despite the smile tugging at his lips. “At least someone here knows how to get it.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Considering you are Senga-sexual, and the only thing you have eyes for is him, you can’t talk.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Yokoo says, flopping down next to Fujigaya who just pats him on the shoulder. “Women are brutal.”

“Yeah,” Miyata agrees without looking up from his phone, because he’s apparently the only one at the table who has an opinion about this.

The rest of the evening is uneventful, aside from Kitayama passing out right where he sits and the youngest two drawing dubious pictures on his face. Between that and Miyata worshipping the porcelain throne after some ameteur drink mixing, Yokoo has his hands full and Fujigaya’s left with Tamamori, who still won’t meet his eye.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Fujigaya says, because he’s drunk enough to have absolutely no brain-to-mouth filter. “Maybe you would get weird about it.”

“It’s not that,” Tamamori says, then lifts his gaze. What Fujigaya sees nearly knocks him backwards; Tamamori’s eyes are soft and dark, focused and so full of lust that Fujigaya feels a rush from the sight alone.

“Oh.” Fujigaya reaches for the closest glass, finds it empty, and frowns at the table littered with nothing but empty glasses while Tamamori disappears. He’s not stumbling at all, and Fujigaya’s momentarily jealous that someone younger than him can hold his liquor better because he can barely keep his head up right now.

Tamamori returns with two shot glasses filled with something blue, and Fujigaya peers at them. “It’s called a slow fuck,” Tamamori says, using this sinfully deep voice that he has no right using in public. “I really just wanted to order it.”

Sometimes Fujigaya thinks he underestimates this one, eyeing the shot as he tries to forget about Tamamori speaking those words to a complete stranger. “You fascinate me,” he thinks out loud.

Tamamori just picks up his shot and motions for Fujigaya to do the same. “Kanpai,” he says in his usual voice, low and husky, and Fujigaya can’t throw his shot back fast enough.

It tastes fruity, the alcohol pleasantly burning his throat, and he considers the taste for a second before giving Tamamori a nod. “It’s good, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Tamamori says, eyes still locked on him, and Fujigaya feels himself tremble a little under the stare. “So do you want to leave?”

“With you?” Fujigaya replies instantly, his heart beating rapidly.

Tamamori shrugs. “World-san may need saving and we don’t know it.”

Fujigaya blinks as he tries to figure out whether Tamamori is serious or not. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me to go home with you, right?”

“Yes,” Tamamori says firmly. “I know you want to, so let’s just go.”

“O-okay,” Fujigaya replies. “Let me tell Wataru we’re leaving.”

Yokoo’s scrubbing at Kitayama’s face (who is still asleep) while Nikaido and Senga are failing spectacularly at beer pong. “I’m not paying for this whole tab,” is all Yokoo says.

Fujigaya tosses some money down onto the table, which has Nikaido looking up. He notices Tamamori and Fujigaya standing up with their coats on and grins. “Shut up,” Fujigaya cuts him off.

“Yolo!” is all Nikaido says.

*

It’s difficult at first, giving the first testing kiss in the genkan of Tamamori’s home, pressing him against the wall, Fujigaya placing both hands on Tamamori’s face and giving what is probably the most chaste kiss he’s had off screen since he was legal.

Tamamori is a bit slow, hands tight on Fujigaya’s wrists, but doesn’t push him away. He closes his eyes and melts into it as Fujigaya presses on, licking at Tamamori’s bottom lip and making them part.

The house is quiet and dark, aside from their heavy breathing and the single light on above their heads, Fujigaya’s shoes already kicked off behind him. Tamamori wasn’t wrong when he’d said Fujigaya wanted to do this; it’s just hard when you’re still living at home. If his mind wasn’t only on the feel of Tamamori’s hands on his wrists and the way his lips feel soft under Fujigaya’s own, clouding up the rest his thoughts, he’d make a mental note to look for his own apartment.

“We should move in case someone wakes up,” Tamamori says, trying to put some space between them. His eyes are bright when Fujigaya catches them, a warm brown that has him nodding in agreement and reluctantly pulling away.

They walk through the house, stepping on every creaky floorboard as they move. It makes Fujigaya giggle, stepping closer to Tamamori and trying to reach out his hands to tickle that small sliver of skin peeking between Tamamori’s shirt and pants. He misses every time, trying that much harder, hoping to get a slight rise out of him.

Fujigaya bumps into him when they reach Tamamori’s room, pushing him against the door and dragging a slight whimper from Tamamori’s throat. “Don’t get ahead,” Fujigaya says, wrapping his arms around Tamamori’s waist. They tumble into the room, tripping over each other’s feet and just barely avoiding falling on the floor.

It’s not the first time he’s been in Tamamori’s room, but it’s the first time he’s been drunk in Tamamori’s room with the lights off. He trusts Tamamori to get them to a surface safely, though Tamamori’s state of mind isn’t that reliable either and they bump into several painful corners before finding the bed. Except that Tamamori misjudges the edge and they nearly fall right off of it, grabbing onto each other and the blankets at the last second.

Of course, this is hilarious to both of them. It may be dark but Fujigaya can still see Tamamori’s eyes, the brightness within them combined with his deep laugh. When they are stable enough to function, Tamamori’s laying on top of him and he just wraps his arms around Tamamori’s neck, pulling him down and pressing their mouths together. Tamamori responds immediately, stretching out to cover Fujigaya’s body entirely with his own as he returns the kiss full-force, much stronger than Fujigaya’s used to.

Tamamori takes charge, hands roaming and pulling off clothes in the process. Fujigaya doesn’t know if it’s because Tamamori’s drunk or if he’s usually like this, so unexpectedly dominant. He _likes_ it, wholly content to lay here and let Tamamori do everything, arching under his touch and moaning softly into his mouth when he finds a good spot.

“You don’t seem that interested in topping,” Tamamori whispers, pulling his tongue out of Fujigaya’s mouth long enough to speak, and Fujigaya makes a noncommittal noise as a confident hand dips between his legs. “What do I have to do to talk you into letting me do it?”

Honestly, Fujigaya would let him do it for nothing, but since he’s offering… “Suck me off,” he says, his voice low and breathy from all of this making out. “And while you’re down there, you can do other things to _open_ me up to the idea.”

The faint smirk on Tamamori’s face says that he caught the hint, and the way he crawls down Fujigaya’s body says that he accepts the challenge. Fujigaya leans up on his elbows because he really wants to watch this, and Tamamori’s eyes don’t leave his as he just opens his mouth and lets Fujigaya’s cock slip inside.

Tamamori swallows around him, making Fujigaya moan almost too loudly before he throws a hand over his mouth, ring on his finger clinking against his teeth. His free hand tangles into Tamamori’s hair as his head falls back to the bed, short locks slipping through his fingers. The soft moan Tamamori gives in response vibrates through his length, having him slip his eyes closed for a brief moment.

“Your mouth is amazing,” Fujigaya gets out, low and breathy and it has Tamamori bobbing his head a little more. He rocks his hips up into the heat, saving Tamamori some effort, fingers tightening in his hair when he feels the slide of Tamamori’s hand between his legs.

Fujigaya gasps when he feels the delicate fingers of Tamamori’s hand on his balls, that combined with the tongue that’s teasing the underside of his length and running along a vein. “Ah—more,” he says, trying not to outright fuck Tamamori’s mouth by thrusting up too hard. He pulls on the hair in his hand.

Tamamori moans and he pulls back, leaving only the head of Fujigaya’s cock in his mouth, sucking on it like it’s a piece of candy, cheek hollowing at his efforts. Fujigaya never pegged this one at being good at giving head, but even the weird ones can surprise you.

He’s close when Tamamori pulls away completely, taking Fujigaya in his hand, stroking him as Tamamori licks at the tip, teasing the slit easily with his tongue. “Tama—” he breaks off into a whimper trying to pull at Tamamori’s hair. “I’m close.” And that’s when Tamamori pulls back, hand still firm on Fujigaya’s cock, but moving at a much slower pace, as he crawls his way back up to crush their mouths together.

Fujigaya’s so worked up that all he can do is snap his hips, desperate for any kind of friction after being brought all the way to the edge just to be let go. It stings so good and he wraps his legs around Tamamori’s waist, an unspoken invitation, and Tamamori stretches to the side long enough to grab something from his drawer.

“I’m not very good at multitasking,” he says with a laugh, “especially after a few. I’ll do it now, okay?”

“Please,” Fujigaya replies, and something flashes in Tamamori’s eyes at the begging. “You’re kind of a sadist, aren’t you?”

“Little bit, yeah.” Tamamori grins as he coats his fingers and breathes on them to warm them up. It’s a nice gesture and Fujigaya barely jumps when Tamamori touches him, circling the rim with his fingertips until Fujigaya’s body practically pulls him in. He’s really good at this too, which Fujigaya would have never expected, but Tamamori’s surprising him left and right tonight.

“Tama,” Fujigaya gasps once the second finger pushes in and Tamamori moves them in and out, simulating sex. “More.”

Tamamori groans a little and fingers him harder, sending him into a full arch when he finds that spot that drives Fujigaya wild and Fujigaya has to fling his arm over his face to muffle his noise. Tamamori keeps grazing it, lightly enough for Fujigaya to crave for it, and finally slips in a third, leaving Fujigaya feeling full and stretched.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you,” Tamamori hisses, and Fujigaya gets out an incredulous laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Fujigaya replies, gasping when Tamamori frowns and jabs him pretty hard in return. “You’re so shy when we’re all talking about it together, but this total sex demon in bed.”

“Not everyone needs to know my bedroom business,” Tamamori tells him, smirking a little. “Now do you want to talk or do you want to fuck?”

“Fuck me,” Fujigaya says, and a pleased noise sounds from low in Tamamori’s throat. “You already gave me a slow fuck tonight, so now I want a hard one.”

Tamamori obliges, leaving Fujigaya to open a condom and slide it over himself, taking a sharp breath at the contact when he smears what is left on his fingers on his length.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Fujigaya says when Tamamori’s head presses against him, hands gripped tightly on his thighs to keep his legs up. It’s painful, the pull in the back of his thighs, but then the stretch of Tamamori pushing inside distracts him, pulling a sound from the back of his throat.

“You’re still tight,” Tamamori pants once he’s all the way in, letting Fujigaya’s legs rest on his shoulders and pressing his fingers into Fujigaya’s hip. Fujigaya has a reply for that, but it dies in his throat once Tamamori starts to move, pulling back and thrusting in slowly.

It’s a painfully slow start that’s more annoying to Fujigaya than enjoyable. He tries to push his hips back, meeting Tamamori’s efforts, grumbling to go faster, harder, and the sudden change of pace—even if he asked for it—knocks Fujigaya’s next breath away. He fists the sheets in his hands and his head tilts back, exposing his neck.

Tamamori’s nipping at the skin of Fujigaya’s knee, easier to get to then his throat or his mouth; it’s effective all the same, having Fujigaya wrap a hand around himself as he rolls his hips. Tamamori moans a bit too loudly at how Fujigaya tightens around him, snapping his hips harder through the new resistance.

Fujigaya idly thinks if he was going any harder, the bed would start shaking from the force. That’s probably a good thing, because Fujigaya already feels like Tamamori’s pounding deep inside him, and he doesn’t think he could take any more. It feels so _good_ , though, and he strokes himself at half of the speed to make it last longer.

“Gaya,” Tamamori gasps, and Fujigaya moans in acknowledgement. “Gaya, if I keep going like this I’ll come.”

“Slow down then,” Fujigaya says, and Tamamori instantly cuts his speed, looping his arms around Fujigaya’s thighs and pressing as close as he can. His hair is stuck to his face, newly brown and a little curly from their sweat, and Fujigaya has to squeeze himself to keep from finishing. “You’re so fucking hot right now.”

“Yeah?” Tamamori asks, a little laugh mixed with a groan as he pulls all the way back out before thrusting back in. “You too. Your face is pink.”

“It’s your fault,” Fujigaya tells him, then gasps as Tamamori stretches to kiss him. It’s fast and sloppy and an excellent muffler for their noises that escalate as Tamamori goes faster again. A strong hand closes over Fujigaya’s and jerks him roughly, making his spine arch at the sudden pressure in his groin. “Tama, I’m going to—”

“Me too,” Tamamori hisses against his lips, then fuses their mouths together as Fujigaya comes over both of their fingers and Tamamori pulses deep inside him. They keep rocking together for a bit, riding out the aftershocks until Tamamori pulls out and presses his face into Fujigaya’s chest, breathing hard.

“Shit,” Fujigaya says. “If I had known it’d be like that, I would have saved the world a long time ago.”

Tamamori just laughs. “You should go.”

“Go?” Fujigaya repeats, cringing at the sore muscles as he stretches out underneath Tamamori. “I can barely _move_.”

“My mom will flip if she sees you here in the morning,” Tamamori tells him, rolling over onto his back with a long, relaxed sigh. “I don’t need her getting any ideas. She already calls Miyata her son-in-law.”

“Ooh, that makes me the mistress,” Fujigaya jokes, and Tamamori rolls his eyes and gives him a half-hearted smack. “Okay, well, see you.”

“Later,” Tamamori says, rolling right over onto his stomach and leaving Fujigaya to find his clothes and show himself out. He manages well enough, suddenly sober from both the orgasm and the cold night as he makes his way home at such a late hour.

The next morning, Fujigaya’s parents ask him about his later return than usual the previous night. Fujigaya just shrugs, focusing on his food and thinking up a tactic to steal from his youngest brother’s bowl. “I hung out with everyone for a bit,” which is true. He just doesn’t inform them that he was next to trashed, feeling momentarily like he’s a kid again. “Then Tama and I took the long way home.”

“Because the alcohol reeking mess of clothes in the hamper isn’t a give away,” his brother says with an eyeroll identical to Fujigaya’s own. “I was totally awake when you got in. You were drunk.”

Fujigaya glares at his brother and his parents glare at him. “You have a really big mouth.” He steals a nice piece of fish from his other brother.

“So ‘the long way home’ has got to be code for ‘had sex somewhere’, right?” The two of them laugh at this and the incredulous look Fujigaya gives. He’s torn between killing himself and killing them, wondering why he still lives at home with such noisy siblings.

Fujigaya can feel the heat on his neck, giving up the rest of his breakfast and excusing himself from the table, claiming he’s late for work.

Tamamori doesn’t say anything when they see each other later, and aside from the dubious eyebrow wiggle Nikaido gives Fujigaya, neither do the other members. Though, he’s sure he hears some whispering on Nikaido’s end about the matter. It’s all _normal_ ; just another day with Kis-My-Ft2, and for some reason it unsettles Fujigaya when he thinks about it that night.

*

The thing about a one night stand is that it’s only supposed to be for one night. Fujigaya knows this, and he’s confident that Tamamori knows this, too. It’s right there in the name. This does not, however, register to Fujigaya’s brain that likes to flash vivid reminders of said night behind his eyes every time he sees Tamamori. And as they work together a lot, these images are constant.

“Hey,” Tamamori says after a particularly awkward photoshoot; Fujigaya may as well have been posing with Kitayama for how uncomfortable he was. “We’re okay, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Fujigaya says, ignoring how Tamamori’s eyes stare right at him. “It was just a one-time thing; it’ll never happen again.”

Tamamori scoffs. “If you say so.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Fujigaya demands, his heart racing defensively. “We were drunk, Tama. People make bad life choices when they’re drunk.”

“I was a bad life choice?” Tamamori asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, not you specifically,” Fujigaya says, lowering his voice, and now he’s ignoring the smug look on Tamamori’s face. “Just…we probably shouldn’t have done that, is all.”

“Don’t worry,” Tamamori says, clapping him on the shoulder and twitching when Fujigaya flinches. “It won’t happen again.”

Fujigaya nods and they go back to work. He and Tamamori were just starting to be pretty good friends, and now he can barely look at him. Sex really does ruin everything, though Fujigaya himself is wholly to blame. Because he can’t stop thinking about it, even when Tamamori’s right there in front of his face; it just reminds him of being underneath him, feeling those eyes on him as Tamamori fucked him into the mattress, and just the memory makes him harden a little.

Because he really, really wants to do it again. He stands close to Tamamori and smells his cologne, the same one that had infiltrated his senses when they were together, or he watches Tamamori’s body move during their routines and recalls how it had moved in and out of him. It’s kind of ridiculous, especially when he finds himself initiating fanservice with Kitayama just to get out of doing it with Tamamori.

If Kitayama, or anyone, finds anything weird with Fujigaya’s behavior during the shoot, they don’t say anything. It’s probably filed off as one of Fujigaya’s stress problems since he can’t smoke anymore, which is fine by him. He’s left alone during breaks more often than not, where his mind ventures to Tamamori. Fujigaya isn’t sure what he wants exactly, thinking it’s probably his brain’s desperate claim at some other type of physical contact than what he gets at work.

Fujigaya would rather die than admit that he wants to do it again. His skin tingles, hair standing on end when he has no choice but to touch Tamamori or work in such close quarters that arms brush. It leaves him feeling flush, hoping whatever makeup is on his face covers it. And before Fujigaya realizes it, he’s taking a cold shower in the middle of winter, trying to clear his head and get rid of the embarrassing hard on that he woke up with.

The images of his dreams play on the back of his eyelids coupled with the real events from that night are not helping at all. It just makes him want Tamamori even more, giving in and fisting himself fast and hard, spilling over his fingers in no time just as someone starts banging on the bathroom door telling him to stop wasting all the hot water.

“The least of my problems,” Fujigaya mutters, washing up quickly and feeling hot even under the cold spray, breath ragged and short as if he run a marathon. He avoids Tamamori’s eyes the entire day, leaving their group meeting as fast as possible to avoid any awkward talks.

*

Of all the people Fujigaya thought would ask him about his night with Tamamori, the last one he expected it to be was Yokoo. “Did Nika put you up to this?”

“No,” he says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement. Fujigaya isn’t convinced by the way Yokoo tries to hide his smile. “Okay, yes. Now, how was it topping Yuuta?”

“For a straight guy you have some really gay tendencies,” Fujigaya comments dryly, letting himself into Yokoo’s kitchen and snooping around for food. “I didn’t top.”

Yokoo’s laugh sounds a bit mocking to Fujigaya’s ears, but it could be his head playing games with him. “I thought that was the whole reason why it happened.”

“We were drunk, things changed. End of story.” Fujigaya closes the refrigerator roughly, hoping his face isn’t giving him away. “Why don’t you have food in this place? Terrible host.”

“That’s Hiromitsu’s job.”

“No, his job is to eat what you put in front of him regardless.” Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Your job is to take care of us. Order some take out.”

Yokoo rolls his eyes but pulls out a take-out menu and gets his cell phone ready. “Then you have to tell me how bottoming for Yuuta was. No argument.”

“How is it you’re a ‘pussy bandit’ again? Because right now you’re being a bit gay.” He ignores the sudden speeding of his heart and opts to glare in Yokoo’s general direction, weighing the options of having this conversation or going home to annoying siblings.

He stays in the end. The food is good, the television is somewhat amusing, and Yokoo is annoying with his questions, making Fujigaya complain, “I like it much better when we talk about your sexual escapades with the girls whom you manage to pick up. It feels a little less private.” But even that doesn’t get Yokoo to lay off and Fujigaya wonders why it is exactly they’re best friends. He much prefers to have this conversation with Yokoo than anyone else though; there are surely jokes to be made if it was Nikaido or Kawai.

“It was just a one-time thing,” Fujigaya goes on, feeling like a broken record, though most of the times he’s said it has been in his own head. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“I wasn’t implying that it did.” Yokoo’s voice is even and unassuming, but his eyes say otherwise. “Just be careful, Taisuke.”

“We were careful,” Fujigaya grumbles. “I have a surplus of condoms from my manager who seems to think I’m next in line after Akanishi.”

Yokoo scoffs. “What the hell, I have to buy my own.” He sighs. “That’s not what I meant, anyway. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you know. You always have.”

“I’m not…” Fujigaya starts, swallowing down phrases like _in love_ because he just doesn’t want to go there. “It was just sex.”

“Was it good?” Yokoo asks.

Fujigaya glares at him, but Yokoo raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Yeah, it was really good actually,” he admits. “Surprisingly good.”

“There are such things as sex friends,” Yokoo tells him. “I have three. You and Tama could totally be—”

“We can’t, because I…” Fujigaya trails off, this time not wanting to state his reason. Yokoo’s his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he needs to know all of Fujigaya’s secrets. “I just can’t do it casually like that.”

“Didn’t stop you the other night,” Yokoo points out.

“I was _drunk_ ,” Fujigaya replies. “And you all cornered me into it. Well, Nika and Kento did. Then Tama basically propositioned me, and—”

“Wait, he propositioned you?” Yokoo cuts him off, looking impressed. “That’s so weird. He’s usually shy about stuff like that.”

“Not until you get him in bed, apparently,” Fujigaya grumbles. “He totally took charge, it was shocking.”

“And hot,” Yokoo adds knowingly.

Fujigaya’s cheeks heat up as he remembers it vividly. “And that.”

“Taisuke, you clearly want to do it again, so just tell him.” Yokoo leans back and folds his arms. “If it was really that good, he’ll probably want to too. God knows you both could benefit from getting laid regularly.”

Fujigaya thinks about that as they move on to other topics and eventually become engrossed in a movie on cable. Maybe Yokoo’s right—actually, he knows Yokoo is right, he just doesn’t want to approach Tamamori about it. Tamamori had been the one to kick Fujigaya out of his room afterward, something that had stung a little if he was being honest. But that’s the procedure for one-night stands, because the morning after is too awkward and besides there’s really no reason to cuddle.

Not that Fujigaya minds cuddling. He finds himself admiring Tamamori’s arms the next time they work together, all built up from Dream Boys training; he bets they would feel nice wrapped around him. He drags his eyes over the shape of Tamamori’s muscles, perfect for his build and looking more than comfortable.

Fujigaya isn’t even aware that he’s been staring until Nikaido interrupts the group meeting and makes a more than sexual comment about the look on Fujigaya’s face that has two people blushing at the table. Tamamori tells him to grow up but won’t meet Fujigaya’s gaze across the table. It’s more than okay with him, for he keeps his eyes directed at the table or on Kitayama for the rest of the meeting until he can make his way out of the room as soon as possible.

*

Luck must be on his side, or completely against him. The more Fujigaya’s busy schedule frees, the more Tamamori’s fills up. It makes it easier for Fujigaya to convince himself even more that becoming sex friends is not a good idea. The thought adds to a bigger idea in his head, the one that has a voice bugging him in all the free moments of the day. It says to him all the things about Tamamori he’d never dare say out loud. Some of them are filthy, things he’d never even thought about during sex, and some are just so purely innocent and intimate that he thinks he might be sick.

Who has time for a relationship when you’re still a newly debuted group that needs to work at every chance they get?

After a few days of not seeing the other, Fujigaya’s managed to convince himself that this will pass; it’s merely just a phase. Some type of side effect from not having sexual contact in a while, if that is even possible. The more rational part of his head tells him that it isn’t, but Fujigaya tells it to shut the fuck up, realizing he seems a little bit crazy when it happens at the dinner table and he said that out loud.

His family looks at him strangely, brothers commenting on how hanging out with Tamamori-kun must be making him weird as well while Fuji-mama asks if everything is okay. “Are you stressed?”

Stressed is one way to put it. “Tama isn’t weird,” Fujigaya says, sparing a glance up from his food. It sounds a bit weak to his own ears, more defensive than convincing.

“It’s a sign,” the youngest says. “The beginning of his downfall.”

“I think all that hairspray has finally gotten to his head.”

Fujigaya glowers, picking at his food. He’s not hungry, stomach full of knots and twists pulling this way and that, making food seem completely unappealing.

“Maybe you’re coming down with something.” His mother places a hand to his forehead; he doesn’t even try to fight it off, secretly hoping that maybe he is sick and this being attracted to Tamamori is part of it. Fujigaya is only a little disappointed when she pulls back and says he doesn’t have a fever.

Perhaps he is losing it, falling onto the weird bus with the rest of his group and half of their generation of Johnny’s that only see weird by the day. The more he thinks about it, Fujigaya isn’t really bothered by it. Hell, maybe things would be easier then and he’d be able to admit that he wants more than a one night stand or casual sex.

Except that the next time he sees Tamamori, there’s a dubious mark on his neck. “Did you lose a fight with your flat iron?” he asks blankly, praying the answer is yes.

Tamamori gives him a smirk dirtier than the one he’d worn in bed. “Nope.”

“ _Damn_ ,” Nikaido exclaims from across the room. “Did Watta feed on you or something?”

“Very funny,” Yokoo says, rolling his eyes when Fujigaya turns to glare at him. “Please. Tama’s a pretty girl, but I prefer indoor plumbing.”

Tamamori makes kissy faces at him until he notices Fujigaya seething. “Oh, come on. We don’t have a photoshoot or an appearance today, and I wear a scarf outside.”

Just then Miyata walks in, and Fujigaya directs his look of wrath towards him. “Whoa,” he says, stopping in his tracks and throwing up his hands. “It wasn’t me.”

“Why does everyone think we’re like that?” Tamamori asks, shaking his head at Miyata, who shrugs. “For your information, Gaya, it was a girl.”

Fujigaya blinks. “You like girls?”

“My kouhai,” Yokoo says fondly, sauntering across the room and flinging his arm around Tamamori. “Any time you want to go out cruising, you let me know.”

“Sure thing,” Tamamori replies with a grin, then looks Fujigaya dead in the eyes. “A hole is a hole.”

Yokoo’s face falls at that, and Tamamori just turns to stretch before practice, leaving Fujigaya standing there with his mouth open in complete incredulity. He’s never been so offended in his life, and he’s seriously about to cause a scene when Kitayama walks in and makes the dumbest face at Tamamori’s hickey, killing the mood.

Then he catches Miyata’s eye, leaving him so confused that his rage fades. Miyata looks sad, though not in the way Fujigaya would expect. He looks sad for _him_. Fujigaya gives him a questioning look, but Miyata just shakes his head and smiles. It’s not his usual face-dominating smile, just a small one that’s a cross between sympathetic and supportive.

Fujigaya means to mail Miyata later, but he forgets. Or rather, the bottle of Jäger he shares with Kawai makes him forget. Getting drunk is never a good idea, but it helps him put things into perspective even if Kawai has the biggest mouth this side of the Pacific and everyone in the agency will know about him and Tamamori by sunrise.

When he looks at it objectively, Tamamori did him a favor. Fujigaya has been plagued this entire time with memories of their night together and yearning to do it again, and now he never wants to see his face again. This doesn’t bode well for their group, but Fujigaya doesn’t want to see Kitayama’s face either and they coexist together well enough. Maybe he can find a way to push the two of _them_ together in fanservice pairings and just leave him completely out. If he has to, he can just couple himself with the others or Yokoo; he’ll even fanservice with Miyata if he has to.

*

Fujigaya broods over it for a few days, avoiding Tamamori as much as he can when the group is together, and when he can’t he’s straight to the point. Everyone gives him these _looks_ now, and Fujigaya isn’t really sure what they mean, but he’ll be damned if he asks. It’s like the early days all over again, when Fujigaya couldn’t so much as look in Tamamori’s direction without getting annoyed over something stupid. He feels childish and slightly ridiculous. But then Fujigaya sees traces of other marks on Tamamori’s skin, easily covered by makeup when they’re filming or at photo shoots and it makes his blood boil. Reasoning with himself, Fujigaya concludes that he wouldn’t feel like this is not for that one night, but what’s done is done.

“Gaya-san,” Miyata says one day, many headaches and arguments Fujigaya has with himself later. He has this smile, that same smile that he had before and it almost pisses Fujigaya off, but then Miyata is offering to buy them dinner even though he’s the kouhai. Fujigaya doesn’t decline though, calling Miyata weird and leading the way to a really good ramen shop that always makes him feel better when life is a bit much.

Miyata does more watching him than eating, something that he probably does with Tamamori often. “I’m not Tama okay, don’t look at me like that,” he says around a mouthful of noodles. “I’ll be less forgiving.” The laugh Miyata gives is soft and breathy. “Sorry.”

“You want to tell me what’s up, or do I have to beat it out of you?”

Miyata looks at him seriously, eyes dark and looking directly into Fujigaya’s own. “Why don’t you tell Tama-chan you like him?”

Fujigaya promptly chokes on his food, bringing some attention to them from the shop keeper as his face turns red and he coughs before taking a long drink from his glass. “What?” He rasps, looking at Miyata through his bangs. “Who said anything about liking Tama?”

“No one, but—”

“But nothing.” Fujigaya clicks his tongue and glares at his food, trying to will himself to eat it but the feeling in the pit of his stomach protests so he ends up poking at it with his chopsticks. “I don’t like Tama. Whatever anyone told you is a lie.”

“But you always look so sad, Gaya-san.” Miyata’s got those puppy eyes now and Fujigaya has to force himself not to even look in his direction. “You try to cover it up by glaring or yelling, or whatever but everyone knows.”

Fujigaya’s never pegged this one for giving one of the motivational talks, but they hang out about as much as Senga and Yokoo. “Mind your own,” he warns. Fujigaya almost gets up, leaves Miyata there to make his point but something keeps him from doing so no matter how ticked off he is.

Then Miyata says something that has him forgetting his food completely. “You hurt him, you know.”

“What?” Fujigaya replies. “He’s the one who called me _a hole_.”

“He said that because you hurt him,” Miyata says firmly. “He won’t tell me why. Hell, he won’t tell me anything. But I know him well enough to know he’s not intentionally mean like that unless he’s been hurt. Like a wounded animal who lashes out because he’s humiliated at losing the battle.”

If there’s anything Fujigaya can relate to, it’s that feeling right there. “He kicked me out of his room,” he says quietly. “I felt like a whore.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Miyata says, staring at him like he’s from another planet. “You said casual without being weird, and now you’re the one being weird.”

“You sure have a good memory when you’ve been drinking,” Fujigaya grumbles.

“Look, can you just…” Miyata trails off with a sigh, dropping his head into his hands. “You’re both so impossibly stubborn, I wonder if it isn’t just better the way it is now.”

“I’m really tired of dealing with this,” Fujigaya says, rubbing his temples. “I appreciate the meal, but I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He takes money out of his wallet anyway and ignores Miyata when he protests, turning on his heel and walking straight out into the night. It’s still early enough to be considered decent visiting hours, though their moms are usually forgiving when it involves the other members. His feet lead him straight to Tamamori’s house without thought, and he stares at the door for several long seconds before the cold weather wins out over his pride and he knocks.

“Fujigaya-kun!” Tamamori’s mom fusses the second she opens the door. “What are you doing out in this weather? Come inside, right now. Are you hungry? I can heat you up something.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Fujigaya says politely, shrugging off her attempt at taking his coat. “I won’t be here long. I just have to say something to your son.”

“Yuuta?” Tama-mama says. “He’s not here, dear. He’s been out a lot, lately. I think he’s seeing someone.”

“Oh.” Fujigaya tries not to look affected by this news, though it’s not difficult with how frozen his face is. “I’ll just leave him a note, then.”

“Is something wrong with his phone?” Tama-mama asks, reaching for the corded house phone nearby. “I’ll try to call him—”

“No, that’s okay,” Fujigaya rushes to stop her, sighing in relief when she hangs up the phone. “I didn’t try calling him. I was just in the neighborhood.”

Now Tama-mama eyes Fujigaya skeptically, though she doesn’t call him on it. “You can leave him a note, if you want. I’ll be happy to give it to him.”

“Okay,” Fujigaya agrees slowly, accepting the pad of paper and pen Tama-mama gives him. Her expression softens as he stares at the paper, wondering what the hell he should say. Even if Tamamori were home to hear him in person, he wouldn’t know what to tell him. Finally, he settles for _I’m sorry_ , tears the sheet from the pad, and folds it into fourths before handing it to Tamamori’s mother. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want something hot to eat? Some tea?” she presses. “My husband can give you a ride home, if you want.”

“It’s not that cold,” Fujigaya assures her. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

“It’s so nice to see you again,” she replies. “You look more grown up each time you come around. I hope my son hasn’t been too much trouble for you.”

“Not at all,” Fujigaya says, and his smile is real. “Good night.”

She watches him from the front door until he’s out of sight, probably going right to the phone to call his mother and talk about him. It makes him not want to go home, because he’ll get the other end of it along with a lecture about showing up uninvited and didn’t I raise you better than that?

He loiters around a bit, taking his time going home hoping that it will spare him the lecture. He ends up killing time in a combini, standing by a magazine rack and flipping through something just glancing at the words, not really registering them in his head.

Just when he thinks it’s been long enough, taking a second to check the time on his mobile, the doors of the store ding open and Fujigaya hears a familiar voice off in the distance coupled with a completely different one, high pitched and girly, that he’s never heard.

“I must be stupid,” Fujigaya says to himself, chancing a look up and catching Tamamori in the distance. He curses under his breath and stuffs the magazine back in the rack trying to pull his scarf better around his face to sneak out without being noticed.

“Sir?” The cashier calls out as Fujigaya tries to escape. It would be his luck. “Are you not buying anything?”

Fujigaya mumbles a no through his scarf, barely looking where he’s going successfully walking into something and knocking it over. “Shit,” he groans as the cashier rushes to help clean the mess up. He mutters his apologies as he stands trying to head for the door once more, but once he looks up Tamamori is staring directly at him, his companion looking between them in question.

A pretty girl with long black hair keeps her eyes trained on Fujigaya for a long second. A tiny flash of recognition hits her eyes and Fujigaya can see the lightbulb go on in her head, mentally putting a name with his face. Fujigaya wishes for the floor to swallow him whole.

There’s a soft knock to Fujigaya’s bedroom door later after he’s locked himself in his room and climbed into bed, planning on not getting out until his manager comes to drag him out. He tells whoever it is to go away, but it’s a garbled sound from under the covers so the click of his door opening comes anyway.

“You left your phone in your coat,” his mother says and places it on his night stand. “It’s been ringing nonstop for almost an hour.”

Fujigaya reaches out blindly for it then pulls his arm back under the covers and powers it off, tossing it on the floor not caring where it lands. “Problem solved,” he grumbles. “Was that it? I want to be alone right now.”

The bed dips after a pregnant pause and Fujigaya almost cries out in frustration.

“Tamamori-san called this evening,” Fuji-mama says, and this time he really does cry out loud. “She said you stopped by.”

He grunts in response, curling in on himself even more, arms wrapped around his knees as he curls into a tight ball. It’s hot under the covers, and almost pitch black, but it’s distracting enough for Fujigaya that he doesn’t think about the night’s events.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Fujigaya snorts. You mean the fact that I’m more or less gay, or that I want to fuck my bandmate, he asks in his head. “No,” he says out loud. He closes his eyes tightly when the covers are pulled back from his head, bringing in the bright light of his room that he had left on before diving in bed, not bothering to change.

Fuji-mama frowns. “You’ve been acting strange lately.”

“Mom, please.” Fujigaya says after finally opening his eyes to look up at her. “I’m tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

He doesn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone with his own mother. “If I need to talk I’ll come to you,” he says, hoping that will work. Fuji-mama still looks bothered by it all but stands regardless and tells him that the last bath is his.

When she’s gone, he pulls the covers back over his head and takes deep, slow breaths. The warmth from the covers distracts Fujigaya until he falls asleep, still feeling as uneasy as he did during dinner with Miyata.

*

Tamamori’s mother had been wrong. He hasn’t grown up at all. What kind of adult hides from his problems instead of facing them head-on? Moreso, what kind of adult gets all fucked up over a friend? Fujigaya isn’t proud of his decision to call into work the next day—it’s just some meetings, they can live without him—but he just can’t face them all yet. Maybe tomorrow.

His mother’s face tells him that she doesn’t believe him one bit when he says he has the day off, but she still lets him help her with the chores and some of the cooking. It’s nice, actually; he doesn’t think he’s spent so much time with her since he was very young. Possibly before he joined Johnny’s.

“Taisuke,” she says suddenly, and Fujigaya pauses in his laundry folding. “No matter what, I still love you, okay?”

“Okay,” Fujigaya replies blankly.

That’s the end of that, and Fujigaya returns to his room a little dazed. Still in the cleaning mode, he straightens up his own things and is halfway under his bed when his door opens again.

“Do you always greet people with your good side?” that deep voice taunts, and Fujigaya bangs his head on the box springs out of surprise.

“Do you always invite yourself into other people’s rooms?” Fujigaya shoots back, scooting out from underneath the bed in an undignified crawl.

Tamamori reaches out his hand, a silent offer to help him up. “Your mother loves me, she practically shoved me in here. And you’re the one who showed up at my house first.”

A better man would take the proffered hand and make Tamamori haul his dead weight off the floor, but Fujigaya is not a better man and hops up on his own, instantly flopping down onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what you think you’re sorry for,” Tamamori says evenly, unceremoniously diving onto Fujigaya’s bed next to him. Fujigaya shoves at him, but he doesn’t budge.

Fujigaya sighs. “Whatever I did to make you be an asshole.”

“I guess I deserve that,” Tamamori mumbles. “Miyacchi said you honestly had no idea, and I believe him because you’re both awful liars.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Fujigaya mumbles. “No idea about what?”

“Gaya,” Tamamori says, “you basically said that having sex with me was a mistake, and that we should forget it ever happened.”

“That’s not what I—”

“That’s what I heard.” Tamamori rolls onto his side and plays with a loose string in the bedspread between them. “I was mad because it was your idea in the first place, and I only did it because it was you. I don’t just go around fucking everyone who thinks I’m hot, you know.”

“I don’t either,” Fujigaya says. “You told me to leave like right after we were done, though.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.” Tamamori doesn’t look at him, and that’s when Fujigaya knows that whatever he’s feeling, it’s real. “You said casual and casual means not staying the night. I know that much.”

“Yeah, well,” Fujigaya starts, pausing to clear his throat. “I didn’t know how I’d feel afterwards.”

A finger pokes him in the shoulder. “Does that mean you wanted to stay the night?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Fujigaya says, lifting his head to look at Tamamori, into those eyes that have been haunting him for weeks. “I wanted to stay the night. I wanted to do it again. I wanted to maybe see if something else came out of this, I don’t know. One night is just not enough, okay.”

“Gaya,” Tamamori says softly, resting his hand on Fujigaya’s arm. “Nobody said anything about just one night.”

Fujigaya stares at him, feeling incredibly dumb as he realizes that Tamamori is right. “I guess that’s what I’m sorry for.”

“Besides,” Tamamori says, scooting a little closer and pushing Fujigaya’s wild housecleaning hair out of his face. “Saving world-san is a neverending job.”

Fujigaya lets his eyes fall closed at the touch. “How could I forget; constant danger lurking in every corner,” he replies softly, rolling onto his side to face Tamamori. “Sounds like a tough job.”

Tamamori’s free hand goes up to cup Fujigaya’s face. “I think you of all people can handle it. How many dramas did you do?”

He groans in response causing Tamamori to laugh softly, breath tickling Fujigaya’s skin. “Don’t remind me,” he says. A minute or so passes before Fujigaya opens his eyes again, Tamamori’s staring right back at him when he does, hand smooth and easy on his face, fingertips moving gently on the skin. “Why did you have sex with me?” he finds himself asking before he can stop himself.

“Gaya, I don’t—” Tamamori cuts off when Fujigaya brings a hand to his hip, pulling them a little closer, feet hanging off the edge of the bed. “Because you’re gorgeous,” Tamamori whispers, face turning a light shade of pink probably matching Fujigaya’s own blush.

Even if he looks at himself in the mirror more than regularly, and gets paid too look _sexy_ , Fujigaya doesn’t think he could be called gorgeous. “I’m not,” he says, inching his face closer to Tamamori. “I just act like I am.”

“Cocky is hot on you,” he mumbles against Fujigaya’s lips. “But it also makes you seem easy,” he adds after they kiss. “Like, the girls who want Yokoo-san easy.”

Fujigaya scrunches up his nose. “Well, if you get a couple drinks in me…” He offers a small grin before leaning in to kiss Tamamori again. It’s longer this time, Fujigaya nipping at Tamamori’s bottom lip to let him in, tongue exploring the insides of Tamamori’s mouth, the back of his teeth and the feel of Tamamori’s tongue against his own. He remembers what it felt like when they were drunk. Everything was amazing then, even if altered by the haze of alcohol. This time Fujigaya can’t even put it into words, opting to kiss Tamamori more to get the point across.

He’s working on the line of Tamamori’s jaw, licking at the smooth skin, biting it every now and again, and leaving soft kisses as he works his way to Tamamori’s neck.

“That is so gross,” a voice says from the doorway.

Fujigaya growls low in his throat, shutting his eyes tightly and taking a deep breath before getting off the bed and shoving the oldest little brother out of his doorway. He feels Tamamori’s eyes on his back, watching his every move. “Good, then get the fuck out.”

“You’re the one who left the door open!” comes the muffled reply once Fujigaya slams his door shut, locking it for good measure.

Tamamori smirks at him from the bed when Fujigaya turns back around. “Did you just growl?” he asks with glint in his eyes. Fujigaya gives a smug look in response before making his way back to the bed and practically pouncing on Tamamori. “That was hot.”

He does it again, a low noise in the back of his throat as he presses himself onto Tamamori, straddling his hips and hands on his shoulders, picking up on where he left off at on Tamamori’s neck. Tamamori brings his hands to Fujigaya’s thighs, rubbing them a little before moving back to his ass, and Fujigaya notices a difference already. “Were you holding out on me that night?”

“Yeah,” Tamamori admits, squeezing Fujigaya’s ass hard enough to push them closer together, where Fujigaya feels the hint of arousal against his own. “Wasn’t sure what was considered ‘casual’ or not. Figured it was easiest just to keep my hands to myself.”

“How are you damn kouhai so aware of your shit while drunk?” Fujigaya mutters, and Tamamori’s deep laugh tickles his ear.

“Don’t be jealous because I hold my liquor better than you,” Tamamori teases.

Fujigaya nips him especially hard, just under his jaw, and Tamamori’s hips snap up against his with a very strong moan. “No wonder those bitches left their marks on you. You love it.”

“Yeah,” Tamamori says, his voice all air. “You can go harder if you want. It’s still turtleneck season.”

Now Fujigaya lets out a moan of his own as he complies, running his tongue along the indents in Tamamori’s skin from his teeth, and Tamamori’s hands come back to life on his body. “Touch me,” he whispers. “Touch me to make up for not touching me then.”

Those hands slide up the back of Fujigaya’s shirt, splaying on the muscles of his lower back, hot on his skin. Fujigaya lowers his head to suck right above Tamamori’s collarbone, growing harder at Tamamori’s sharp gasp and the way he rubs them together. He has to break contact when Tamamori all but yanks his shirt over his head, which Fujigaya follows with Tamamori’s and runs his own hands up Tamamori’s chest to feel the smooth skin and muscles that quiver under his touch.

“Can we…” Tamamori starts, and Fujigaya groans as Tamamori’s fingers tease his waistline. “Not all the way, at least right now, but something?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies, rushing to open Tamamori’s pants and feel the weight of Tamamori’s cock in his palm. It’s not all the way hard, but it quickly gets there with a few firm strokes, and Fujigaya licks the bright red welt he’d created as Tamamori arches beneath him.

“Do that on me,” Tamamori hisses into his ear, followed by a deep moan that goes right into Fujigaya’s pants along with Tamamori’s hand, effectively talking him into it. “I’ll let you top me later if you want, just please put your mouth on me.”

Fujigaya moans as he presses his forehead onto Tamamori’s shoulder, already finding it a bit difficult to breathe. “Yeah?” he says trying to pull himself together enough to move lower. The idea of being able to top Tamamori now that Fujigaya knows how he is in bed has even more appeal than it did before.

He licks his way down Tamamori’s chest, stopping even now and again to nip at the skin, giving Tamamori slow strokes to keep the light gasps coming from him. Fujigaya can’t even count the days for how long he’s wanted to do this but it’s enough to have him take Tamamori right into his mouth without stopping to tease.

Fujigaya groans around the head, tongue lapping at the underside and running along the vein. Tamamori is loud, louder than they were at his house that first night, and Fujigaya can’t bring himself to care that his family can hear this, enjoying the noises he makes.

A sharp tug at his hair has Fujigaya taking him deeper, moaning around Tamamori’s length, hand still wrapped firmly around the base giving short strokes. He can feel the jerks of Tamamori’s hips under his hand that’s holding on tightly, thumb rubbing circles above his hip bone. There’s a bitter taste on the back of Fujigaya’s tongue and he pulls back to lick at the head, getting the full taste of pre-come before going back down.

He’s relentless, bobbing his head at a quick pace when the fingers in his hair tighten, pulling at the strands a bit. Tamamori’s hip snap up in the little space he has in, muttering Fujigaya’s name under his breath. “I’m close,” he says.

The tone of Tamamori’s voice has Fujigaya taking more of him in his mouth, removing his hand from the base of Tamamori’s cock and working solely with his tongue. He holds Tamamori’s hips down to keep him from hitting too far back and it leads to a strong yank of Fujigaya’s hair that makes him groan.

That’s all it takes, fingers twisting roughly in Fujigaya’s hair as a burst of bitterness hits his tongue, followed by a shrill gasp that fades into a low moan as he sucks Tamamori dry. It softens in his mouth and now Tamamori’s pulling him up by his hair, a low growl sounding deep in his throat at the sting of his scalp. Tamamori crushes their mouths together, licking Fujigaya’s tongue to taste himself and Fujigaya can’t stop himself from rubbing against Tamamori’s thigh because he’s so fucking turned on after that.

“Ugh, why do we both live at home?” Tamamori whines, reaching down to take Fujigaya firmly in his hand; Fujigaya moans against his lips, automatically pushing into the tight funnel of Tamamori’s fingers without active control. “I want you to do that inside me.”

“To be fair, my entire family probably already thinks we’re doing it,” Fujigaya hisses, banging around in his nightstand before gently spreading Tamamori’s legs. “Are you okay to go so soon?”

“Yeah, but…” Tamamori trails off as he rolls them over, pinning Fujigaya to the bed as he straddles his waist. “I like it like this.”

Fujigaya groans as he slips newly slicked fingers up the inside of Tamamori’s thigh. “On top no matter what, huh?”

“Basically,” Tamamori replies, leaning down to press a kiss to Fujigaya’s lips that’s entirely too chaste considering Fujigaya’s about to circle his rim. Tamamori gasps into his mouth and it deepens, though it’s still slow and sensual even as Fujigaya pushes a finger inside. Tamamori’s body rocks back against it, more than relaxed enough for a second, which stretches along with the first while Fujigaya moves them in and out with shallow thrusts.

Tamamori keeps stroking Fujigaya’s cock, making him arch and choke on his air. “I want you so bad, Tama-chan.”

Three fingers has Tamamori whimpering into his mouth, pushing back enough for Fujigaya to rush to roll on a condom with his free hand, and it’s Tamamori who grabs him by both arms and pins them over his head. Fujigaya’s arousal flares as he squirms in the restraint, though he’s not trying to escape at all as Tamamori leans down to kiss him, taking both of Fujigaya’s wrists in one hand to grab Fujigaya’s cock with the other and ease himself down onto it.

Fujigaya rolls his head back, letting out a groan as he feels Tamamori all around him. “Fuck,” he gasps, trying not to snap his hips up. Tamamori’s working on his neck, leaving a nice mark of his own while still holding down both of Fujigaya’s arms, rolling his hips in short movements that has Fujigaya begging for more in the soft choked voice that comes out of his throat.

When he finally does get use of his arms again, Fujigaya feels like his skin is on fire and he’s about to explode. He grips firmly on Tamamori’s waist, enjoying the feel of hands running up his chest as Tamamori rides him a little more earnestly, rocking his hips. He can see the light sheen on Tamamori’s skin, sweating from their efforts and it makes him thrust up harder.

Tamamori lets out a loud moan, telling Fujigaya to do that again, pushing down against him.

Fujigaya places his feet firmly in the bed, angling his hips, hitting Tamamori deeper than before. “You’re so loud,” Fujigaya pants, but he feels kind of smug that it’s him that is the cause of all this.

“Because you’re so _good_ ,” Tamamori replies, stroking Fujigaya’s ego perfectly as he bounces on top of him. Fujigaya groans and sinks his fingers into Tamamori’s hair, guiding him back into his mouth and Tamamori’s kisses are even fiercer like this, fast and breathy and _hot_ as all of his noises die on Fujigaya’s tongue.

“Are you—?” Fujigaya starts to ask, then finds out for himself as he snakes his hand between them and makes contact with Tamamori’s newborn erection. “Damn, you bounce back fast.”

“I’m young,” Tamamori says, followed by a hint of a laugh that turns into a moan as Fujigaya wraps his fingers around him and pulls. He feels it tightening around him and drinks down Tamamori’s escalating noises, each one taking him higher as well until he’s thumbing the head of Tamamori’s cock to get him off faster because he’s pretty close himself.

It works, Tamamori’s body rocking on top of his as he comes over Fujigaya’s fingers and takes Fujigaya with him. Fujigaya’s next thrusts are uncontrollable, his orgasm leaving him barely coherent of anything except the person weighing him down. Everything halts so fast that it takes Fujigaya a second to catch up, clinging to Tamamori’s sweat-covered body as the latter extends his legs and stretches his muscles.

“And world-san is safe yet another day,” Tamamori says, breathless as he leans down to kiss Fujigaya much more softly than before, and it’s worth all of the pointed looks from his brothers and gentle reminders from his mother that other people live in this house just to feel Tamamori’s arms wrap around him, in no rush to let go anytime soon.

*

Nikaido’s breath is heavy with alcohol as he leans most of his weight on Fujigaya’s shoulder, head lulling about as he tries to get out his words. “I never asked,” he slurs right into Fujigaya’s ear.

“Too close.” He shrugs Nikaido off, shoving him in the direction of Yokoo, who barely gets his drink down before he has his arms full of Nikaido.

“How was it?”

Fujigaya scrunches his noses up. “How was what? Your hot booze filled breath on my neck? Disgusting, don’t do it again.”

Tamamori snorts into his own drink while Kitayama smirks outright. “I think he means your attempts at saving the world with Tama-chan.”

“We’re still alive aren’t we?”

“That’s a shitty answer,” Nikaido says from Yokoo’s lap, making himself perfectly at home despite the unpleasant look on Yokoo’s face. “How about actual details?”

Fujigaya fights back his flush, hoping it’s just hot in the room. “This is not ‘Fujigaya Taisuke’s sex life’ on pay per view!”

“I’d pay to see that,” Nikaido say wriggling, around on Yokoo’s lap. “You’re not a very good chair. How do girls have sex with you?”

Yokoo pushes him onto the floor without a response.

Senga nudges Tamamori a little. “How about you, Tama?”

Tamamori blushes. “Does it matter? World-san is safe and we can drink another day.”

“Did he fuck you into the mattress?” Nikaido asks from the floor. “Make you moan loud into the night asking for more until your voice was hoarse?” Fujigaya can see the leer on his face without looking down. “I can totally see Tama begging like a bitch.”

“A little descriptive there, are we?” Kitayama chuckles. “Did you get off to that idea?”

Fujigaya tunes out Nikaido’s response by downing the rest of his drink, really not wanting to have this conversation.

Just like before, Tamamori keeps his comments to himself, staring more at his drink or the wood of the table, or off into space than listening to the members and their sexual desires. If he was an asshole (or drunk), Fujigaya would tell them, but then he thinks about the weeks of basically heartbreak he had gone through and keeps his mouth shut.

“I know what happened!” Nikaido gets off the floor and sits right back in Yokoo’s lap, ignoring the other’s protests. “You bottomed, didn’t you?” He points an accusing finger at Fujigaya. “Gaya took it in the ass just like everyone else even though you said it was only if you got to top.”

Tamamori is actually red now, glaring at the table. “Oh my god, Nika, shut up.”

“How was it?”

Fujigaya scowls a bit. “You sure ask a lot of questions for someone who is rubbing their ass all up in someone’s lap.”

“Maybe he’s hoping the pussy bandit will come after him next,” Tamamori offers and they both have a laugh.

It’s simple enough, having drinks with everyone and laughing away. Even if Nikaido has a mouth on him, Fujigaya does have him to thank for the warm body that’s in his bed the next morning, limbs tangled up in his own—even if there is a fist in his back and drool on his shoulder. He buys Nikaido his next three drinks, helpfully distracting him from the topic of his sex life with Tamamori that he plans on keeping in the bedroom as much as possible. Though sometimes, Fujigaya is purposely loud just to get that much more from Tamamori and enjoys the blush that dances across his skin when they get a comment from someone’s brother or a warning look from a parent.

At least they don’t have to worry about the end of the world.


End file.
